Liber ab Bellum
by gbkgreenleaf
Summary: When Hawkeye delivers a baby from a dying Korean woman, the whole unit adopts her. The title means Child of War in Latin. Rated for mild language.
1. Bombed Village

Disclaimer: None of the main characters are mine.

Colonel Sherman T. Potter, commanding officer of the MASH-4077, was having a rotten day.

First that wisecracking upstart Pierce had started a hailstorm of a food fight at breakfast. Then a large wave of casualties arrived halfway through, forcing the officers to leave the mess tent in a state that honored its name. Then the colonel had listened to Major Winchester complain about Pierce's "immaturity", "lack of seriousness", and "unprofessionalism" until his ears ached. Then Klinger had strolled in wearing (on duty!) the most blindingly clashing outfit he could find: a checked pink and green dress, a navy blue pillbox hat, and a pair of flowery yellow stockings. Then, to top it all, Sophie had picked up a stone in her hoof and could not be ridden for the next few days. Colonel Potter had just about had it by afternoon. He sat at his desk with his head in his hands, determined not to be perturbed by any future incidents.

A timid knock on the door alerted him of Radar's presence. As usual, the clerk's uncanny sixth sense had warned him of the colonel's bad mood.

"Come in, son," Potter called. "I'm all used up from biting the heads off Pierce, Winchester, and Klinger. I don't have the the time or the energy to bite off yours."

Emboldened, Rader shuffled into the cramped office, pushing his glasses higher up his nose as he squeaked, "I just got word from the 4122, sir. A civilian village was bombed near them but they can't spare any surgeons."

"There's got to be another MASH closer to them than us," Potter protested.

"All the others are swamped with casualties of their own," Radar explained. "There's a battle going on in that area."

"Probably why the village was hit in the first place," murmured the colonel. "All right. Me, Pierce, and some nurses will take a couple of choppers and check it out. Call up Father Mulcahy, too. We have to expect the worst for some of the poor devils."

"Yessir. I'll call Captain Pierce and the father on the PA."

"Tell them to report--"

"To the landing pad," Radar finished his sentence.

"Let's go," said Potter, squaring his shoulders and running to fetch his medical bag.

In next to no time the two helicopters were in the air, carrying the selected doctors and nurses to the site of the bombed-out town. As they set down, Captain Hawkeye Pierce jumped from the copilot seat of his chopper, brow furrowed as he looked over the desolate scene before him. Charred wrecks of homes still smoldered on both sides of the pitted dirt road that ran through the village. A miraculously unharmed housedog picked its way around the shrapnel and debris to paw at one of the still forms lying on the ground. All around was the acrid smell of blood and burning. "Damn war," the captain muttered under his breath as he checked the pulse of the nearest body.

"Fan out, everybody," ordered Colonel Potter, blinking as bits of ash floated by on the breeze. "Find anyone who's alive and call for a doctor."

The group spread out, filtering into the houses. Father Mulcahy stumbled over an overturned table, wondering how it survived the fires. On the other side he discovered a limp figure of a young woman. He knelt by her side and pressed a hand against her wrist, discovering a feeble thread of a heartbeat. "I found someone!" he cried.

Hawkeye ran over to him, leaping a broken stone wall on the way. He immediately began searching through his bag.

"Hawkeye," the priest exclaimed, "I think she might be pregnant."

"There's no 'might' about it, pops," the doctor said shortly. "She's in labor. There's nothing I can do for her, but I got to get that baby before it's too late."

"What can I do to help?" Mulcahy said urgently.

"Hold her still and try to keep her calm," Hawkeye answered. "Hell, I'm no head of a maternity ward. Why is it always me who has to handle things like this?"

"When have _you_ ever delivered a baby?" asked his companion incredulously.

"Never. That's the problem."

The priest silently did the Sign of the Cross and clasped his hands together, saying, "I'm afraid I may trust the Lord more than you in this situation."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. Now keep your mouth shut and hold this woman's head for me."

A little ways off Colonel Potterwas standingready to load the wounded into carrying pods on the choppers. He waited, but none came. "There aren't _any_ survivors?" he asked his team.

"No, sir," said a nurse. "But Hawk and Father Mulcahy are still looking. Maybe they'll find someone."

Just as she spoke, a high-pitched sound broke the silence: a child's cry.

"What the devil is that?" said Potter. "Is it a villager?"

"One villager, sir, packaged and delivered," said an approaching voice. The colonel turned to see Hawkeye with an armful of something wrapped in his olive green jacket and Father Mulcahy trotting at his side.

"Well, where is he?" the colonel barked, looking around for a stretcher.

"Actually, 'he' happens to be a she," said Hawkeye, turning to reveal a miniature figure enfolded in the jacket. The baby's oversized liquid black eyes, framed by velvety lashes, were set at a delicate tilt in her tiny face.

"How old is this little nipper?" inquired Potter incredulously, hiding a smile as the infant yawned sleepily, weary from her short bout of crying.

Father Mulcahy looked at his watch and answered, "About a minute old, sir. Captain Pierce delivered her."

"And the mother?" asked the colonel.

Hawkeye shook his head, careful not to disturb the dozing baby.

Potter sighed and said, "Pierce, you hold her in the chopper. Let's move it, people. We'll decide what to do with the kid once we get back home."

All of them nodded in agreement as they boarded the helicopters.


	2. Christening

Disclaimer: No one is mine except for (of course) the baby.

The choppers set down on the landing pad, stirring up plumes of swirling dust. Hawkeye shielded his young burden's eyes as he carried her into Colonel Potter's office and sat down in front of his superior's desk.

"The best thing for us to do with her is give her to the orphanage," Potter said as he settled himself in his swivel chair. "They've been caring for war orphans ever since the fighting started."

"May I venture an opinion, Colonel?" interrupted Father Mulcahy from the doorway.

"What is it, padre?"

"The orphanage can't handle a child this young. Newborns require almost constant attention at all hours of the day. There are too many orphans to manage that."

"What do you suggest, then?" asked Hawkeye, shifting the baby's weight unto his lap. "We can't just leave her out to dry, can we?"

"And we certainly can't keep her here," interjected the colonel. "Like you said, Father, she'll need a lot of attention. A busy MASH unit in the middle of a war is no place for children."

"Have a heart," said Hawkeye, determined to fight out his case. "At least let us keep her until other arrangements can be made. There are a lot of people in this camp and I'm sure we can give her all that attention between us."

Colonel Potter opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by the door bursting open, revealing Captain BJ Hunnicutt. "Is it true?" he asked. "It's a girl?"

"Now wait just a minute, Hunnicutt--" Potter started, lurching forward in his seat. But BJ was already deaf to his words, leaning over Hawkeye to examine the new arrival.

"Looks a bit like my little Erin," he declared proudly.

"All babies look alike," Hawkeye retorted. "But somehow I doubt Erin looks Korean. Back off."

"Shut up and listen, you two. That kid's not staying, and that's final," insisted the colonel, standing up to emphasize his point. Just as he finished, Majors Margaret Houlihan and Charles Winchester entered the room.

"I bet no other MASH has got their own resident adoptee," Margaret exclaimed, shoving BJ to the side.

"We're not adopting anybody!" said Potter.

"She'll make a fine protégée, don't you think?" said Charles, totally disregarding his commanding officer's claim. "I'll make her the finest surgeon this side of the Pacific."

"Looks like you've been overruled, sir," Father Mulcahy said to the colonel.

"Maybe you're right," Potter admitted. "Okay, everybody. I want every single person in this camp to assemble in the officer's mess tent. We'll discuss our options there."

Within ten minutes every nurse, soldier, and doctor was gathered in the Officer's Mess, chattering eagerly. Colonel Potter got up in front of them and called, "If we're adopting this orphan, the first thing she'll need is a name."

These words were met by a barrage of comments from the peanut gallery.

"How about 'Marie'?"

"I don't know, Margaret. I personally prefer 'Grace'."

"Well, _you_ would, Father. I'd choose 'Sophie'."

"Radar, you name horses after children, not children after horses. It's 'Peg', 'Erin', or nothing in my opinion."

"Beej, go soak your head in Klinger's cooking. I'd say 'Katharine', like Katharine Hepburn."

"Watch it about the cooking, Captain. What about 'Hafizah'? That was my grandmother's name. She used to make the best kebabs in America."

"Don't be stupid, Klinger, if that's possible. I vote 'Wolfgang'."

"'_Wolfgang?_' She's a girl, Charles!"

"Any girl would be honored to be named after Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Unfortunately, I don't believe the thought entered your tiny brain, Pierce."

"Now wait just one second, you big-mouthed--"

"Shut up, all of you! Next person that speaks cleans the latrines for the next month!" roared Colonel Potter, looking around to see the results of his threat. The room was silent as a tomb.

"Now," the colonel continued, "I believe we should vote on a name in an orderly fashion. Pierce, Hunnicutt, and Winchester, our surgeons, will each choose a name. Then we will decide from those three. Pierce, what's your choice?"

"Well," Hawkeye answered, "Beej and I both agree on 'Katharine'." He and BJ nodded.

"Winchester, what about you?"

"I choose 'Hippolyta'."

"'_Hippolyta_'" Hawkeye scoffed, sniggering. "What kind of a name is 'Hippolyta'?"

"It is the name of the warrior queen of the Amazons in Greek mythology," said Charles huffily. "It has also been used in Shakespeare."

"Break it up, gentlemen," said Colonel Potter. "You have your choices. Everyone who chooses 'Hippolyta' raise your hand."

Charles sat alone with his arm in the air, casting glares around him at the other motionless voters.

"By almost unanimous decision, this baby is hereby named 'Katherine'. All in favor say 'Aye'."

"Aye!" cried everyone in the room except for a very disgruntled Charles Emerson Winchester III.

"No one in this camp has good taste," he grumbled, folding his arms defensively.

"Charles, old buddy, old pal," said Hawkeye, throwing an arm around the Major's wide shoulders, "there is only one man in camp with bad taste in infantile nomenclature. Three guesses who."

"Pierce, you disgust me," said Charles with utmost dignity, shrugging away from Hawkeye. "By the way, never touch me again. I do not wish to be infected by your severe case of idiocy."

"But Charles," retorted Hawkeye, "you've already begun to exhibit symptoms."

"I don't have to sit here and listen to this," the major said, getting up to leave. "Oh, here's a slight problem for you to puzzle over. How are you going to feed the newly christened Katharine?"

"We'll make do with what we have in stock," answered Colonel Potter from the front. "You know, the stuff we keep for wounded children. As I remember, Father Mulcahy got hold of it in the first place. No doubt he can get us some more once it runs out, won't you, padre?"

Father Mulcahy looked up with an expression like a deer caught in a car's headlights. "Well, Colonel," he stammered, "I'll see what I can do. However, you might also remember the means I used to get it by…"

"What means?" inquired Hawkeye, turning away from his torment of Charles.

"Ackblay arketmay," murmured the priest out of the corner of his mouth. "But don't tell anyone."

Hawkeye smiled knowingly and whispered, "Not a word, pops."

"Now, Pierce is in charge of the baby for tonight," said Potter, interrupting them. "He'll switch with someone else tomorrow night. Dismissed."

Hawkeye collected the infant and set off for the Swamp. There he met BJ, who instantly pulled a large wicker basket from behind his back.

"A perfect cradle," he explained. "Let's just make it more comfortable."

Hawkeye filled the basket with some blankets and lay the baby inside, watching as she immediately settled down, blinking her wide dark eyes.

"Funny," said BJ. "Erin fussed for almost a full day after she was born. Apparently Kitty here has a rather more stoic personality."

"'Kitty'?" repeated Hawkeye, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. It's a nickname for 'Katharine'."

"I know that, Beej, but she's not a cat."

"So?"

"Fine, I like it. I wonder if Sleeping Beauty approves." He gestured to Charles, who was curled on his cot with a pillow over his head.

"Do you two cretins know the meaning of the word 'sleep', by any chance?" the major growled, voice muffled by the pillow.

"Sleep, noun. A state of being in which an organism is at rest and there is a decrease in bodily movement and response to stimuli," rattled off BJ. "Gee, Hawk, I guess I really don't know. Please enlighten us, Charles."

"Highly amusing," their bunkmate groaned. "How droll. Quite humorous. Might you also perchance know the meaning of the words 'Shut up'?"

"Shut up is an exclamation in which the--"

"SHUT UP!"


	3. Settling In

Disclaimer: Nobody mine but Katharine.

Over the next month Kitty ingratiated herself into the daily life of the MASH-4077. One brisk morning Corporal Klinger was dishing out breakfast, wearing his usual natty printed skirt and a headful of bright pink curlers. Hawkeye and BJ wearily got into line and were greeted cheerfully by the corporal.

"Greetings, mon capitains," he sang. "How's our little kitten today?" He gently chucked Kitty under the chin from her vantage point in BJ's arms. The baby gurgled and squirmed happily, chomping down on Klinger's finger with a toothless yet sharp bite.

"You're raising a little shark there," the corporal commented, massaging the smarting digit. "How's she enjoying the new wardrobe I made for her?"

"She loves it," BJ answered, showing Klinger the powder blue dress the baby was wearing. "You have quite a sewing talent."

"Talent, you say? Wait till you taste my cooking talent!" answered Klinger, his olive-skinned features alight as he dumped a generous spoonful of slop onto Hawkeye's tray.

"What in Korea is this?" asked Hawkeye suspiciously, examining the slime with disgusted interest.

"_Grits a la Klinger_," said the corporal with a flourish. "Give it a try and you'll be begging me for seconds."

"Klinger, this looks like old oatmeal mixed with bits of spam," BJ commented, making a face.

"Whoever said it wasn't?"

"So much for seconds," said Hawkeye, surreptitiously shoveling his helping back into the serving container. "I think I'm going to be sick. By the way, what about Kit's formula? It's got to be better than this stuff."

Klinger pulled a full bottle out of his apron pocket and handed it to the surgeon. "Bon appetit," he said.

"In this place?" BJ answered. "Forget it. Let's get a seat, Hawk."

They settled down at one of their usual tables, tucking in to breakfast with their usual lack of anticipation. Charles sat across from them, picking daintily at his tray.

"Look, Beej, the God of Medicine has descended from on high commune with his mortal subjects," Hawkeye wisecracked, making a mock bow to his fellow surgeon.

"I will not waste my time with a sardonic reply, cretin," Charles retorted.

"By the way, Charles," said BJ, "me and Hawkeye have to be in Post-OP for a little while. Would you mind babysitting Kit in the Swamp while we're busy?"

Charles opened his mouth to answer as the baby was thrust into his arms where she lay gazing inquiringly at him. "Very well," the doctor grumbled.

"See you later," BJ said, getting up to leave. "I just burped her, so she won't spit up on you."

"Wonderful," Charles groaned, lifting the gurgling infant and heading out the door to his tent. There he prepared his record player and selected a record. "Now, Katharine," he addressed the baby, "that your two moronic guardians are gone, we can begin the process of your higher learning. Research has indicated that listening to Mozart assists in the assimilation of knowledge, therefore I shall read you some Shakespeare while the piece is playing."

As the first few notes sounded, Charles proceeded to read Kitty the opening lines of _Hamlet_. He did not notice that the child had dozed off until about fifteen minutes had passed. "Kitty," he asked, "don't you want to be like your Uncle Chuck? Kitty?"

"'_Uncle Chuck_'" repeated a voice from the doorway. There stood Hawkeye and BJ, both doubled over with silent laughter.

Charles placed the baby in her basket before shoving past his maligners to find solitude in the supply tent and read up on everything Shakespeare had to say on revenge. Meanwhile, the two other surgeons let Kitty sleep as they sought solitude in the Officer's Club to plot further practical jokes. Just as they sat down at the bar Father Mulcahy shuffled up to them, a worried expression on his face.

"What's troubling you, Father?" asked BJ, tucking in to a glass of cheap spirits.

"Kitty's formula is running out," answered the priest, wringing his hands. "I'll have to get some more from the black market, so I'm going around asking for donations."

"Donations of what?"

"Valuable items to trade. Do you have any?"

"I'm sure we could get some of Charles' more prized possessions," said Hawkeye. "I've been dying to sort through his foot locker. He usually has pretty good stuff…"

"Hawkeye! I will not condone stealing!" protested Father Mulcahy.

"Then ask him for his things before we relieve him of them," said BJ simply. "You still got those lock picks we made, Hawk?"

"They're in a place of honor," his friend answered villainously.

"I'll go ask Major Winchester before you do something foolish," said the chaplain. "Perhaps I can get him to contribute from his gourmet stock."

"Good luck with that, Father," said Hawkeye, toasting the priest with his scotch. "Put the fear of God in him."

Father Mulcahy found the major in the supply tent sniffling through the closing act of _Romeo and Juliet_. As he stated his request, Charles immediately refused.

"Give you my food for _baby formula_?" he scoffed.

"Why not?"

Charles sighed and relented. "I'll give you a few cases of caviar and perhaps, just perhaps, some boxes of Belgian chocolate truffles."

"You've been hiding chocolate?" the priest nearly shouted.

"Keep your voice down!" exclaimed the major. "Do you want Pierce and Hunnicutt to rob me blind?"

"What else have you got besides caviar and truffles?"

"I'm not giving you any more."

"Major…"

"Fine. I've got escargot from my mother last week, but you're only getting half!"

"Deal. Where is all this stuff?"

"I'll get it and bring it here. I don't want anyone seeing my hiding place."

In a few minutes he arrived loaded down with packages. He pushed them at Father Mulcahy and left the tent immensely overwrought at seeing his precious larder so depleted. The chaplain placed the boxes in a waiting jeep and climbed into the driver's seat. Within a few hours he was back with a truckful of formula containers.

"Ah, the milkman cometh," said BJ, who was sitting in a canvas chair outside the Swamp. He and Hawkeye beside him were sipping homemade martinis garnished with olives stolen from Charles' cache.

"I was most successful," Father Mulcahy told the doctors. "The men took one taste of that chocolate and I was sure I could have gotten all of North Korea for it."

"Chocolate, you say?" said Hawkeye, sitting up and spilling half of his martini. "That sly devil's been hiding real chocolate from us? He should share with the other kids, shouldn't he, Beej?"

"That's the first rule my mother taught me," his friend answered. "Did you see where he hid it, Father?"

"No, I didn't," said the priest forcefully, "and I wouldn't tell you if I had."

"Of course you wouldn't," Hawkeye coaxed sweetly. "But what if a box was in store for you if you did?"

"All Doctor Winchester said was that it wasn't in his foot locker. I didn't see where he got it from," said the father in a rush.

"We'll give you a couple pieces for that," said BJ. "All right, Hawk, what's our first move?"

Hawkeye leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands together fiendishly. "Listen carefully to Step One of the Great Chocolate Heist."

His companions gathered around as he explained his newest dastardly plot in a whisper.


	4. The Great Chocolate Heist

Disclaimer: You wouldn't sue a 13-year-old with a life savings of 20 dollars, would you?

It was eleven o'clock at night and all was about to be not well. BJ and Hawkeye both perched on their cots, nodding meaningfully at each other. The Great Chocolate Heist was about to begin with Charles Emerson Winchester III's loyal bunkies at its head.

Kitty was lying in her basket observing the two would-be criminals' proceedings with wide-eyed interest. Before retiring to the Swamp, they had bribed Radar to send the major a telegram loaded with information that would be highly significant to Charles. BJ and Hawkeye had a lot of fun devising something that would leave their fellow surgeon's head spinning. They had discussed all sorts of different scandals at home to which Charles might react unfavorably, getting him out of the tent for just enough time for a thorough chocolate search. Finally Hawkeye had come up with the best scheme: a notice from Boston General informing Charles that his old med school nemesis (about whom Charles ranted from time to time) would be filling an important station at the hospital. That was sure to send the major into a tizzy in which he would probably immediately send a telegram to the nemesis informing him of his complete and utter disgust at the news. Perfect.

The message was sent and received by Charles who responded as expected by storming off to Radar's office. Once he was gone, BJ and Hawkeye continued with their plan of action. First they stretched a tripcord across the door so they would be alerted instantly if their bunkie returned prematurely. Just to be fair, they lay out some pillows in front of it so that their victim would have a soft landing. Then they progressed to shuffling through the area around Charles' bunk until it resembled a detonated mine field. BJ held a flashlight above his partner-in-crime's head as Hawkeye sorted through dark places.

"I found something!" he whispered, pulling a wooden case from under the cot.

"Pretty lax security considering he shares a tent with two crooks like us," BJ commented as Hawkeye examined their find.

"Not as lax as it seems," he said. "This has a heavy padlock on it. But that's only a minor inconvenience." He pressed his ear to the lock and spun it carefully, listening to the muted clicks and waiting for the ratchet to catch.

"Hurry up," murmured BJ urgently. "It's been ten minutes already!"

"Shut up, I've almost got it," answered Hawkeye. "There!" The lock popped open.

BJ inspected it. "Typical Charles," was his observation. "He couldn't have paid more than a few bucks for this. Only a three number combination."

"Here's the chocolate!" Hawkeye exclaimed, pulling out two largish boxes. "A box each."

"We have to give a few to the padre," BJ reminded him, taking his share. "What other stuff does he have in there?"

"Canned pheasant, pâté, some partridge…oh, gross, escargot."

"Whoaaahhhh!" cried a voice from the doorway.

The two burglars whipped around to see Charles sprawled across the pillows set in front of the tripcord.

"You thieves! Bandits! Highwaymen!" the floored officer bellowed, snatching the case from their hands.

"I can't believe we deserve such titles!" said Hawkeye, avoiding his enraged associates flailing fists. "I feel honored!"

"Quiet down or you'll scare the baby!" BJ exclaimed. His sentence was cut off by a high-pitched laugh. Kitty was smiling widely as she watched the squabble, squirming gleefully and acting as if the incident was the finest entertainment.

"Well, Klinger was right," said Hawkeye, neatly dodging Charles' fumbling kick. "You're a bloodthirsty little shark, aren't you?"

Kitty answered with a chuckle as she grabbed the dog tags around his neck, thrusting them into her mouth and beginning to suck noisily on them. Just then a crowd burst into the tent with Colonel Potter in the lead, clearly reacting to the commotion they had heard.

"What in tarnation are you three children doing in here?" the colonel demanded, attempting to look dignified in his stripey red and white bathrobe.

"My chocolates were about to be filched by those two purloining pilfering _plunderers_!" shouted Charles by way of an answer.

"You wake up half the camp because they were stealing chocolate?" repeated Major Margaret Houlihan, tucking her tangled blonde hair behind her ears. "What kind of juveniles are you?"

"Now, wait a second," protested Hawkeye, extricating his dog tags from Kitty's toothless grip. "We're just honest thieves. Charles here is the only one acting juvenile."

"Horse hienies," scoffed Colonel Potter. "You haven't been honest a day of your life, Pierce. All of you, listen up. It is 11:45 at night, all of us are tired, and this subject is officially dropped. Good night, gents."

"I demand that these ruffians be court-martialed!" said Charles.

"Court-martialed for stealing chocolate? I might just court-martial you for hoarding it away from the rest of us, anyway," answered the colonel, exiting the tent with all the other onlookers.

"The system of justice in this hellhole is appalling," gasped the major, whipping the chocolate boxes from the burglars' hands. He immediately began devouring the truffles to calm his nerves.

"Oh, come on, Charles," said BJ, "at least give us one for trying so hard. If you do, we'll tell you your rival didn't get a job at Boston Medical."

"He didn't?"

"Nope. We made that up to get you out of the tent."

"You fiends!" Charles roared. "This is the sneakiest, most underhanded…and possibly most brilliant scheme you've come up with."

"Why, thank you," said Hawkeye. "I'm glad you can recognize talent when you see it."

"Here's a reward for your deviousness," the major said, throwing them each a truffle. "Now, how would you like to help me plot against Colonel Potter for the serious malpractice of his disciplinary powers?"

Their answer was interrupted by a voice on the loudspeakers. "Incoming wounded. All personnel report for triage. Sorry, folks, bedtime's over!"

"When did it ever begin?" said BJ around a mouthful of chocolate.

"Who's going to watch Kit?" asked Hawkeye, pulling on his red bathrobe.

"There's no need," answered Charles, pointing at the baby. She was fast asleep and emitting tiny snuffling snores. BJ covered her with a blanket and headed out into the compound, his coworkers close on his heels.

Eight hours and well over thirty patients later, the senior staff of the MASH-4077 was sitting exhausted in the mess tent, hunched over cups of steaming coffee. Kitty's basket lay on the table, it's inhabitant now wide awake with Hawkeye's dog tags hanging from her mouth to keep her quiet. The sudden screech of tires outside warned the fatigued officers of a visitor. Colonel Potter opened the tent door, blinking in the morning sunlight as a jeep pulled up, bearing two soldiers and a passenger.

The civilian was a prim Korean woman in her thirties wearing a plain black robe and a solemn air. She bowed before the colonel and introduced herself. "I am Sang-mi," she said in a calm, accented alto. "I have heard you are keeping a Korean child here."

"Yes, we are," said the colonel. "Did you know her parents?"

"Quite well," she answered. "I am the girl's aunt."


	5. Sayonara, Sweetheart

Disclaimer: The usual.

Sang-mi Kim sat with the officers in the mess tent, the baby tucked securely in her graceful arms. There she quietly explained her relationship to the child. "Her mother, Soon-yi, was my youngest sister," she said, stroking Kitty's cheek with one long finger. "Soon-yi lived in the village you discovered with her husband, Jai-hwa. It grieves me to learn they have perished, but I am blessed to find that my niece still lives."

"Can you adopt her?" asked BJ. "She should grow up with her family."

"I cannot," answered the Korean woman. "My husband and I already have three young children. A baby would be too much for us on our farm." She looked into their dejected faces and continued, "But there is another place for her."

"Where?" everyone asked breathlessly.

"I have a second sister," Sang-mi answered. "She married an American soldier named John Miller and moved to America when he was wounded. She is now an American citizen and is also childless."

"We can send Kit to the States if she has family there," said Colonel Potter. "That's what all the bureaucratic ninnies say."

"Where exactly does your sister live in the US?" Father Mulcahy asked Sang-mi.

"She lives in Chicago. There are planes that fly from Seoul to there."

"Do you think we could arrange a flight?" asked Hawkeye.

"I don't know, Pierce," said the colonel, leaning back from the table. "We'll have to go through a lot of red tape to get her adopted."

"She could stay in Korea in the orphanage," suggested Charles.

"Any opportunity for a child to get out of Korea should be looked into," said Margaret. "Do you really want her to grow up in a war zone when she could be in America?"

"Good point," said BJ. "Who should we ask to get all these forms and such?"

"I'll pull some of my strings in the government," said Colonel Potter. "I've got an old buddy in Immigration that could help us out. I'll go get Radar to ring him up and see what he can do. In the meantime, keep an eye on Kit and set up Mrs. Kim in the VIP tent."

"I am afraid I must go, Colonel," Sang-mi interjected. "The farm needs our whole family now."

"Thank you very much for coming," said the colonel, rising from his seat. "Now Kitty has a chance at a better life."

The woman bowed low and looked down at the baby she held, speaking softly to her in Korean before handing her to Hawkeye. Then Sang-mi bid them all farewell and left the tent.

"Let's step on it, people," said Colonel Potter. "This here kid is going to Chicago even if we have to sprout wings and fly her there ourselves."

"Here, here!" cried all those present.

Partly because of Radar's efficiency and partly because of Potter's stubbornness, the colonel was soon on the phone with his friend in Immigration, learning what forms had to be filled out by people on both sides of the Pacific. Telegrams were sent back and forth from the MASH-4077 to the Miller family in Chicago. John and Sun-hi Miller were delighted at the prospect of adopting their niece. However, the government had so many regulations to consider and papers tofile that it was nearly a month and a half before true arrangements were made to transport Kitty from Seoul to Chicago. A helicopter bearing an American social worker would take the baby to the airport in Seoul where the worker would take the child all the way to Chicago and her new parents. Knowledge that Kitty would be going to a better home did not do anything to ease the pain of her departure for the MASH-4077. A huge going-away party was planned to lighten everyone's spirits.

The day of the send-off arrived to bright sunshine and clear blue skies. The mess tent was thoroughly decorated with streamers, confetti, and large banners written over with farewells and well-wishes. A patient who happened to be a professional chef baked a huge cake with white icing for the occasion. In loopy pink letters it read 'Good luck in the Windy City, Kitty!' The sweet mass of pastry crowned a huge repast made mostly from gourmet food generously donated by Charles at the not-so-gentle urging of his bunkmates.

Everyone wore their most festive threads (the extent of which was hair ribbons and cheap jewelry) and glasses of punch were poured out all around. Kitty was dressed in a Klinger original white and pink party dress to match the cake. In the midst of the revelry, Hawkeye and BJ both stood up together. "We would like to propose a toast," they proclaimed, lifting the baby between them. Everyone quieted down as Hawkeye continued. "To Katharine Soon-yi Miller," he said. "May her years be long and happy and may she eat as many Chicago-stylestuffed pizzas as she can stomach."

The room exploded in cheering, but the noise was soon broken by Radar shouting, "Chopper coming in! Kitty, you're about to be on your way home!"

The entire crowd streamed out of the tent to meet the helicopter as it set down on the landing pad. A smartly uniformed lady jumped down out of the seat. She walked purposefully up to Colonel Potter and said, "Felicity McGuire at your service. I'm here to take Katharine Miller to the States."

There was silence in the ranks as the colonel addressed the social worker. "If you'll let us say our good-byes, ma'am?"

"Of course," she said courteously as BJ stepped forward, Kitty curled in his arms.

"So long, Kit," he said. "Don't forget us."

The baby was passed from person to person, each man or woman having an individual farewell for her. At last she came to Hawkeye, who looked down at her and paused. "Sayonara, sweetheart," he said at last. "Make us proud in the big world." Then he handed her up to Felicity McGuire in the chopper.

The people of the MASH-4077 stood solemnly as the helicopter lifted off, each with their own personal feelings. Hawkeye let Margaret dry her tears on the shoulder of his olive jacket so that her subordinates wouldn't see her.

"_Vado per pax, liber ad bellum_," said Father Mulcahy. "Go in peace, child of war."

The End


End file.
